


the future is female

by onemilliongoldstars



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Women's March
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9465644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemilliongoldstars/pseuds/onemilliongoldstars
Summary: Clarke and Lexa meet at the Women's March on Washington in rather unusual circumstances and decide to take on the world together.or: Clarke is an over zealous marcher and Lexa is very passionate and very gay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> an anon prompt, I'm working on making my oneshots ACTUAL one shots and not 10+ chapter beasts.
> 
> tw: misogynistic language and slight violence.

 “Jesus Griffin, watch your sign!”

“Sorry, god, don’t push me Reyes!”

“It’s not fault, Octavia stepped on my foot.”

“Hey!” Octavia whips around to glare at them, her sign swinging dangerously in her hands and several people let out a yelp, ducking out of the way. Octavia grimaces, holds a hand up in apology and falls back into step with the streaming crowds.

“Just be careful where you’re waving that thing O, you’ll take someone’s eye out and this is meant to be a _peaceful_ protest. We don’t want anyone in the emergency room,” Raven nudges at her shoulder.

“Plus we didn’t fly all the way here from New York just so I could spend even more time in a hospital, this is supposed to be my day off.” Clarke pushes her hair over her shoulder, tugging at the tangles and pulls her hat more securely onto her head. In the distance they can hear music from somewhere over the sounds of women laughing and chanting and Clarke feels excitement spark inside her at the sound.

A mother goes past, carrying her tiny daughter on her shoulders in a shirt that reads _the future is female_ in vibrant pink and Clarke returns her eager wave.

“Where are your friends again Raven?” She hauls her sign up a little further, “god, I’m glad I let you design this. Are you sure the lab won’t miss the carbon fibre poles?”

“This is more important than the lab,” Raven shrugs, staring down at her phone and Octavia pulls a face at them over her shoulder.

“Weren’t you building robots?”

“Listen, right now I’m more concerned with making sure there’s a future in which we can use the robots, okay?” Raven finally drags her eyes up, her jaw set grimly.

“Okay, okay.” Octavia laughs, “what does Anya say?”

Raven’s cheeks heat and she shoves her phone in her pocket, “She’s found Lincoln and Monty at the corner of 36th and Broad Street. It’s only a few minutes up there.”

They move with the crowd, easing their way through the streets until Octavia spots her boyfriend’s hulking figure looking vaguely ridiculous with a pointed pink hat  on his head and pushes her way towards him until she can throw her arms around his neck and kiss him soundly. Clarke and Raven follow her, apologising in her wake, and Clarke finally spies Anya’s lanky figure lounging a little too casually against a lamp post. She’s wearing a shirt with _my pussy is bigger than yours_ written on it, a bomber jacket thrown over it and her hat is crooked on her head. Monty is standing a few steps away from her, looking slightly out of place but smiling nervously, holding a sign that says THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN AT HOGWARTS and Clarke goes to give him a quick hug as Octavia untangles herself from Lincoln. Her boyfriend is wearing a shirt he clearly got from work, pink with white letters reading _I support planned parenthood_ and Octavia’s lipstick has left an equally pink mark on his cheek.

Anya raises her chin in a short nod, “Nice of you guys to show.”

“Do you know how long it took to get from the airport?” Raven shoots back and Clark exchanges an exasperated look with Octavia when Anya’s lips quirk into a smirk.

“Did you guys see Melissa Benoist?” Monty asks, before the pair can fall into their usual flirty squabbling. “Apparently she’s around here somewhere?”

“Really?” Raven’s eyes widen, momentarily distracted from Anya.

“Anya wasn’t your friend supposed to be joining us?” Clarke peers around Monty and Raven to eye the girl curiously.

“She’s been held up at work, but she’ll meet us soon.” Anya shrugs, her eyes on Raven and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Okay, if we’re waiting I’m going to grab some food before we start marching.” She hands off her sign to Octavia, who offers:

“I think there was a hotdog cart over there?”

“I’ll bring a few back.” Clark promises and turns, disappearing down a slightly quieter side street. The hotdog cart from earlier has disappeared, but she shrugs and keeps walking. The back streets are filled with normal civilians, although she sees a few women sporting the familiar pink and carrying signs as they search for sustenance. She receives a few nasty glances and meets them with a cutting stare. Her blood is boiling with righteous fury, whipped into a flurry, and she dares someone to approach her, eager for an argument.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, a request from Raven for something vegetarian for Anya and she’s so distracted by it that Clarke walks straight into something soft and warm. Her phone goes spinning out of her hands and she is propelled backwards, barely keeping her footing. It takes her a moment to regain her bearings, finding her feet as the woman she barged into begins to apologise.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking.”

Clarke finds her partner in crime bending to collect her phone from the floor and straightens her hat as the woman rises and she is met with piercing green eyes, dark hair falling from a once elegant updo to frame her face. She is caught for a moment, struck by how attractive the stranger is in her dark coat as a flash of familiarity shoots through her.

“Here,” The stranger blushes, tucking her hair behind her ear as she hands back the phone. “It’s okay I think, I’m sorry again.”

“No it’s… it’s okay,” Clarke is still staring at her, “Do I… know you?”

The woman hesitates, looking at her cautiously for a moment before asking carefully. “Do you watch a lot of news?”

“You’re Representative Lexa Woods!” Clarke almost slaps herself for not recognising the young politician earlier. “The youngest woman elected to the House!”

“Yes,” Lexa visibly straightens, though Clarke can tell that she is still flustered, her cheeks pink. “I’m not normally recognised in the street.”

“I was interested in your campaign,” Clarke explains vaguely, unwilling to admit that she and Raven had once agreed at the bottom of a bottle of vodka that Lexa would be on their celebratory free pass list. “Are you not at the march?”

“I’ve just left the office actually, I’m meeting a friend.”

Clarke’s brows tighten at the words and she feels her belly coil with annoyance, “So you’re not even going? That’s just typical!”

“What?” Lexa frowns, holding her hands out as if to ask for peace, “No I just have to-”

“You politicians are all the same,” Clarke riles, her fists clenching into balls in her pockets, “You’re just out to protect yourselves and your own image, you can’t seem too radical one way or another. I bet you were at the inauguration yesterday?”

“Well-” Lexa fumbles with her words, “Yes, I was but-”

“So you can make time for that but not for the march?” Clarke snaps, “Whole lot of good you are, you’re supposed to be a women’s candidate,” She shakes her head, glowering, “Well it’s okay, we can stick up for ourselves, we don’t need you.”

With that she marches around Lexa, not sparing her a cursory glance, and leaves the Representative spluttering in her dust.

\---

Clarke is thoroughly lost. The crowd seems as if it’s grown since she went for hotdogs and her frantic texts to Raven are proving totally fruitless. Everywhere she turns are towering placards and pink hats and their corner has been abandoned, leaving her stranded and cursing when Octavia doesn’t pick up her phone. She’s about to try Lincoln, always the more reliable of the pair, when a commotion ahead of her catches her attention.

A few paces away two men are harassing a pair of protestors, yelling at them. One can’t be older than thirteen and his friend has her arm out, pushing him behind her as she yells back. The men are clearly drunk, swaying and their words slurred and one stumbles dangerously close to the girl, forcing her to stagger a few paces away. Clarke feels rage bubble in her stomach and takes a few steps closer.

“Hey!” The guys turn, distracted and confused by her and she steps between the protestors and the men, glowering furiously. “Leave them alone.”

“Fucking feminazi,” The first man rolls his eyes, sneering at her and the word feels like a physical blow to her skin, stinging.

“Don’t use that word asshole.”

“Get out of here if you’re not protesting!” The girl beside Clarke steps up until their shoulder to shoulder.

“Why are you fucking protesting?” The second man can barely stand upright and they’re beginning to attract the attention of other concerned protestors, glancing back at them anxiously. “President Trump won the vote, that’s democracy you stupid bitches.”

“Protesting is a fundamental right shit head, it’s in the fucking constitution,” Clarke spits, her hands balling at her sides.

“Yeah but it’s not going to change anything, this is going to be the best eight years for America.” The second guy smiles nastily and Clarke scoffs.

“Yeah, you’ll be lucky to have one year. Your precious POTUS isn’t cut out for the job idiots, he’ll quit or be impeached.”

“What do you know, cunt?” The first guy takes a menacing step forward and Clarke’s patience snaps.

“What did you just call me?” She’s readying to square up and punch the guy when a hand on her arm draws her back, tugging her away and she spins to see familiar green eyes and dark hair.

“Hey, hi, calm down here okay?” Lexa Woods is calm and collected, one hand on Clarke’s arm and one holding a tray with two take out coffee cups in it, and Clarke wants to rip herself out of her grasp.

“Let go of me so I can rip this guy a new one-”

“You should listen to your friend little girl,” The guy laughs, taunting them, “Get back to the kitchen where you both belong- when you’re not sucking my dick that is.”

Clarke feels Lexa go very stiff next to her, stilling and she is alarmed to see the stoic, terrifying fury painted into every line of Lexa’s face when she turns to look at her.

“Lex-”

Before she’s even able to say her name Lexa has stepped forward and swung her arm in a neat, smooth punch that collides harshly with the first guy’s jaw and sends him reeling. His friend’s eyes bulged at the sight and he staggered forward to push Lexa, catching her by the shoulder and jostling her a few paces back. The first guy curses loudly, spitting blood onto the sidewalk.

“Fuck! You bitch!” He staggers up and Lexa barely manages to dodge when he tries to grab her. His friend has more luck and his fist collides with her eye, sending her staggering. Clarke barely manages to catch her before she falls, her arms wrapping around her waist and she’s struggling to hold up a groaning Lexa when a familiar voice comes from behind her.

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

The guys hesitate at the sight of Lincoln’s hulking figure and Anya’s vicious snarl and Raven rushes to help Clarke keep Lexa upright, glaring at them.

“There are some cops right over there,” She’s barely finished speaking before the guys turn tail and scamper away.

Lexa finds her feet at last, staggering out of Clarke’s arms, one hand still pressed to her eye and Clarke is finally able to take in her appearance. Her coffee had spilled all over the front of her shirt in her tussle. The oversized shirt is worn over a soft grey hoodie, with the words _if you’re not angry you’re not paying attention_ printed on it, and what Clarke had thought was a neat updo is actually a long braid down her back. She is still pressing her hand over one eye, but she struggles to stare out at Clarke anxiously.

“Are you okay? And you guys?” She turns to peer at the kids.

The girl nods, putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “Yeah, thank you so much. I think we should find my mom though.”

“You should,” Lexa’s words are a little muffled by her hand, but she is sincere despite it. “Stay safe!” She calls after them, “have a good march!”

Lexa’s eyes spin back to Clarke and the people now gathering around her and, to Clarke’s surprise, she breaks out into a smile. Anya’s arm is around her, surprisingly tender, and Lexa leans into Anya’s touch.

“Hey, you guys found me again.”

“Yeah, well you caused enough of a fuss,” Anya rolls her eyes, but draws Lexa’s hand away to look at her face carefully. “Shit, Lex you’re going to have a shiner.”

“Oh,” Lexa frowns, cringing at the pain the expression clearly causes her. “Damn, that is not going to go down well at work.”

“Screw work,” Anya fusses over her, unlike anything Clarke has seen her do before, but then draws back, frowning and punches at Lexa’s shoulder. “You idiot Lex.”

“Ow!” Lexa rubs at her arm. “What was that for?”

“I thought you were out of getting into fights by now,” Anya gripes and Clarke meets Lexa’s gaze with a slowly dawning realisation, her eyes widening and her cheeks darkening with shame and humiliation.

“You’re Anya’s friend, the one who was held up at work.” She says, uselessly.

“Yeah, Clarke this is Lexa.” Anya gestures between them.

Clarke opens her mouth to respond, but Lexa speaks abruptly over her.

“Hi Clarke, it’s nice to meet you,” She holds out a hand that Clarke stares at for a beat too long before taking it and shaking once, “Sorry I was late,” Lexa smiles sheepishly, “I was stuck in a meeting and then wanted to get everyone coffee to apologise.” Her eyes cut to the trampled coffee cups on the floor and her stained shirt, “That, uh, was supposed to be yours.”

“Thank you,” Clarke can feel her cheeks heating, “that’s so nice of you. And thanks for stepping in there.”

“I didn’t do much good really,” Lexa gives a soft, awkward laugh and rubs at the back of her neck. “But it’s not a problem.”

“Come on,” Anya presses a placard into Lexa’s hands, nudging her head, “Let’s march, I want to get to the White House and see if I can throw my sign over the fence.”

The pair fall awkwardly into step together, their silence unnoticed as the others stream around them, chattering excitedly. Clarke accepts her sign when Raven hands it back, eyes darting up to Lexa’s and she can’t help her smile when she reads to neatly printed words _History Has It’s Eyes on You._

“Are you a Hamilton fan?” The words leave her mouth before she can stop them and she curses herself, wishing they were back to uncomfortable silence when Lexa flushes, glancing at her uncertainly.

“Yes,” Lexa admits quietly, “Yeah, I love it.”

“Me too,” Clarke keeps her eyes firmly fixed in front of her and she feels Lexa’s gaze run over her and then her sign- Carrie’s eyes staring out and _a woman’s place is in the revolution_ below them. “I’m a Star Wars fan too,” She explains, before Lexa can ask.

“I love that,” Lexa answers, her eyes darting down from the placard as her cheeks heat even further. “I mean… the sign not… I love the sign.”

“Thank you,” The grin playing on her lips is hard to disguise and they walk for another few moments in silence before Clarke finally gathers the courage to continue, “I’m really sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa is smiling softly, “You didn’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” Clarke counters.

“It was a fair assumption,” Heaving her placard more comfortably into her arms, Lexa turns to look at her. “I’m glad that you called me out when you thought I wasn’t doing what I should. We’re going to need to start calling people out more often nowadays.”

“You’re… welcome?” Clarke offers at last, lamely and then continues in a desperate attempt to salvage the comment. “Again… thank you for coming to look after me as well, I mean I probably could have handled them… you’re kind of a beansprout, but even so.”

Lexa’s eyes widen at the word, blinking at her in surprise and Clarke is abruptly worried that she’ll be angry, but the girl bursts into laughter, shaking her head.

“A beansprout,” She echoes, “Oh my god, never tell Anya that, I won’t hear the end of it.”

Clarke grins, shaking her head, “I won’t, Scout’s honour.”

Lexa levels her with a sceptical expression. “Were you a Scout?”

“No,” Clarke admits, her grin growing, “But I respect their honour code. Anyway, thank you for helping me out back there even when I was rude to you.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa shakes her head, “But you have to tell me… how did you actually know who I was? No one follows local politics that closely.”

Clarke flushes, considering her options. She takes in the flush on Lexa’s cheek, the nervous way she keeps tucked her hair behind her ears and the sparkle in her eyes and finally says, before she can talk herself out of it. “I might have had a celebrity crush on you.”

Lexa lets out a snort of laughter so loud the woman next to her turns around in surprise, “A celebrity crush? You’re serious? Anya didn’t put you up to this?”

“Nope,” Clarke giggles, hitching her sign further into her arms as she feels a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. “I even put you on my free pass list, you should be honoured.”

“I am,” Lexa assures her, quickly and Clarke smiles at her for a second before she says, at last.

“I liked your policies too.”

“Really?” Lexa’s face brightens like a child on Christmas. “I’m so glad, they’re all so important to me. I just think you can’t ignore this sort of stuff you know? The second you turn away things start happening and it’s the responsibility of anyone who can to stand up for what they believe in because so many people can’t-” Lexa cuts herself off with a start, eyes wide as she flushed furiously. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“No,” Clarke is smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt, “no I like that you’re so passionate.”

“Thanks,” Lexa rubs at the back of her neck uncertainly, casting her a nervous glance from beneath her lashes. “I don’t want to come across as overbearing I just... I care very much about these things. Standing up for your rights and freedoms, it’s so important.”

“You can tell,” At Lexa’s quizzical glance, she explains, “You light up when you talk about them.”

“Oh,” Lexa flushes again, adorably bashful, “Well, we’re lucky to have people like you interested in politics Clarke. Protests are an important way to exercise your rights.”

“This is my first one,” She admits, “It’s amazing, I’d like to do it again.”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities in the next few years,” Lexa is momentarily sombre, but her expression breaks into nervous excitement when she looks back at Clarke. “But maybe when this one is done you’d like to get coffee? With me, on a like… date thing?” She stumbles through her words, flushing and Clarke almost takes pity on her.

“A date?” She clarifies when Lexa finally stops talking, “Like… romantically?”

“I hope so,” Lexa gives an anxious laugh and then says, after a second of thought. “It’ll make Mike Pence really mad, if that changes your mind.”

Clarke’s laugh is loud and unladylike, more of a snort, but Lexa just smiles at her hopefully and she feels a curl of something between hope and excitement twine around her heart when she replies. “Yes, I’d really, really like that.” Her hand brushes against the back of Lexa’s as they walk and she can’t help but lace their little fingers briefly, unable to tear her eyes away from Lexa’s.

“Okay,” Lexa smiles softly and squeezes their pinkies gently, “so we’ll take down the patriarchy and then get coffee.”

“Sounds good.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr @onemilliongoldstars if you'd like to come and say hello.


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